Moe Clark. women of blood memory

Today I opened a box
I wanted to know who I am made from :

face reflecting the flame woman

spotted owl woman of night, of story rising up, woman of lucid knowing and naughty truths, daughter of a deaf mother, she who beats on piano keys behind mother’s back, woman of soft words and strong mind, rice cakes with cheese whiz woman, fried chicken on the way woman, crochet wire hanger woman, fjord forget-me-not woman

woman who remembers

woman of strong winds and tough mind, drifting through stories woman, scotch mints in the glove box woman, grasshopper squished under penny loafer woman, garden strawberry and slug knife woman, woman of grimacing face and strong will, of watchful Norwegian eyes, woman of late campfire lullabies

belly full of laughter woman

woman who always has to have the last line, the “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” cackling loudly woman, woman of there’s still more to the story, travelling the world with three children at her hip woman, basement slideshows woman, scotch baps and tea saucer woman, women holding stained letters from the war

woman of silent resilience

delirious driving woman, Saturday morning Costco trip woman, woman of naked breasts tending to bloody cheeks, of Band-Aids and Polysporin to cure any wound, woman of paper books and fading memories, of one-liner advice, of unconditional love, woman who sits next to herself in the mirror, woman of making her own way

and to all of you I never knew
Mary Alma, Mathilda, Eva, Marie, Sarah, Mary, Marie, Pesew, Josephte, Marie, Mary, Esther…
women of blood memories

I become.


Moe Clark
Texte publié dans le No.23 iskwêwomxn

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